


The Colors of the Evening Stars

by AtypicalOwl



Category: Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: Gen, Introspection, The Lone Power takes a self-care day, someday I will write a completely serious LP fic but today is not that day, today you still get some humor to balance things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 14:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11602599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtypicalOwl/pseuds/AtypicalOwl
Summary: Linear time is atiresomelifestyle choice.  But the harder one tries to escape it, the more one tends to become tangled in it.The Lone Power just wanted a vacation. Naturally, there were complications.





	The Colors of the Evening Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwilightBlossom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightBlossom/gifts).



> This fic is for twilight-blossom on Tumblr!
> 
> The prompt was:
> 
> _Something featuring an ambiguous/positive-ish portrayal of the Lone Power (redeemed or not, either way) in a situation in which Its sacred darkness saves the day. And I would like it to take on a form similar to this at some point:_<https://saarl.deviantart.com/art/Stars-remain-silent-422159478>  
>  _(That’s always how I pictured Its redeemed form at the end of High Wizardry)_

For beings that exist outside of simple four dimensional time and space, there is not really such a thing as “before” and “after.” True, one can dip into linearity briefly, interact with the poor little mortals constrained to a single timeline, or even stick around for the span of a mortal lifetime, but… Why would one even _want_ to?

They have four whole dimensions to play with, and they are just barely starting to poke at reality enough to guess at the rest, and what do they all do?

Fixate relentlessly on what happened in the past.

As if they can change anything about the present by dwelling on the memories enough. As if they don’t still have to deal with everything that’s going to happen in the future. They don’t even _notice_ the present happening! It’s utterly disgusting.

It’s much easier, then, to just pop into a timeline briefly, as one dips a toe into a cold swimming pool. _Yep, it’s still utterly miserable in there,_ one thinks to oneself after dealing with linear time. _There’s absolutely no reason for me to fully manifest in there._ One does not have to deal with pesky befores and afters, past mistakes and future plans, when one just _is._

At least some species that fixate on time actually _do_ things about it. Not all of them are as annoying as the Gallifreyans, either. Take the K’rllekt, for example. Lovely people, tend to keep to their own planet. Bit of a cultural obsession with time travel. Since they figured out how to go back and forth reliably, history books have been outlawed on S’v’feth because they are ever changing - it makes sorting out the author royalties and copyright issues a veritable nightmare.

It’s really been far too long since the K’rllekt have had a direct entropic intervention… But no, that can wait until later, and—

Blast.

There it is again, that nasty habit of thinking in linear time.

It’s so much easier, when there is no past, present, or future. Just what you are doing right now, and what you are not doing right now. Nothing to dwell on, nothing to worry about, and if one wants a little linearity in one’s life, one only has to dip the metaphorical toe in.

Except, as much as one would love to deny it, there really is a Before and After. It’s difficult to think of certain things without framing them that way. Things used to be one way. Now they are different. That is a fact that even a timeless being cannot ignore.

Before, there was… Not contentment, per say, but familiarity. A sort of comfort in the sameness of one’s existence. There was pain, yes, and there was anger, and perhaps some of that pain and anger was even suffered personally instead of being inflicted on another.

Cast out, reviled, declared war on by all of creation. What can one do but declare war in return?

It wasn’t the most well-fitting role, but when it is the only one allowed… One tends to take it and run with it. It got broken in after a while, like a hand-me-down jacket; the sharp edges worn soft, seams loosening and flattening until it became familiar and constant. Still didn’t fit quite right, but somehow, that didn’t matter as much. If one cannot have anything else, one takes what one _does_ have and makes it one’s own.

And, for a while, for a good long while, it worked. A peaceful existence, it wasn’t. There was always another fight, another meddling wizard, another concerned Power trying to bring their fallen sibling back to what they considered the right side. There was always another way it was all rubbed in one’s face. But it worked, after a fashion, and one makes do.

It was working so well that the possibility that things could be different simply never occurred.

That was Before.

Then, along came a thirteen-year-old human girl with a pen that had been through the wrong end of a white hole (and wasn’t that just _sanitary?)._

Then, there was the After.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

As far as planets physically go, Auisria was fairly unremarkable. Terrestrial, about a 60/40 water to land ratio, fairly standard Argon-Nitrogen atmosphere. Two stable satellites, and a circular orbit at a medium distance from its equally stable F-type main sequence star.

Despite its surface blandness, Auisria was the hottest tourist destination in the galaxy, for two very different reasons.

First, vegetable evolution had taken a very interesting turn on Auisria. Instead of the common, muted colors of red, green, or blue chlorophyll that are common on other worlds, Auisrian plant matter tended to be nearly neon and come in every hue imaginable.

(A visiting human wizard once commented, in an awestruck voice, that it was like a whole planet brought to life by Lisa Frank.)

Visiting species either delighted or despaired in the color. It certainly gave beings with certain combinations of cones and rods and like cells quite a headache. For this reason, the Lone Power had chosen to assume the form of an Auisrian — a planet’s home species is most likely to be adapted to its quirks, after all.

Instead of being irritated by the brightness, the Lone Power stood high on a hill, watching the obnoxious leaves of the perfectly manicured trees in the valley below ruffle in the breeze. At sunrise, the angle of the light caught the blue hues in the foliage, setting it ablaze with a cold fire to create a stunning landscape that had inspired countless generations of Auisrian poets, artists, and resort builders.

That was the other thing that drew travelers to Auisria, and the reason the Lone Power was here: The resorts.

Outsiders looked at Auisria and saw a boring planet - colorful, yes, if you have the proper optical organs to appreciate variances in a narrow range of the electromagnetic spectrum, but boring nonetheless.

Its people saw an opportunity, and took it, turning their “boring” planet into one of the most relaxing destinations for parsecs. What the Crossings was to travel, Auisria was to a spa day.

And even immortal celestial Powers need a self-care day once in a while.

He wasn’t very interested in the things like mud masks and massages (though, if he pleased, he could hop a ways into the future to the point the Auisrians would invent the neutrino massage. Those were always relaxing, and they _tingled_ deliciously). No, there was something to be said for backing away from harassing all of Creation to just sit and watch, and see all of the little things a species does to themselves to unknowingly increase entropy in their own lives.

Now _that_ was more relaxing than any massage - the knowledge that he did such a thorough job that he doesn’t even need to lift a finger for petty little beings to pick up the slack for him.

There was something quite entertaining happening with the ownership of the resort in the valley below — an entangled scandal of extra-marital affairs, divorces, plagiarism, counterfeit produce, massage parlor contracts, and tax fraud that rivaled most of the soap operas that resort guests could get on one of the millions of cable channels.

Of course, none of said guests had any idea that this was all going on. They were not celestial beings that could dip in and out of Time with a mere thought, or manifest multiple versions of themselves in order to observe all of these factors simultaneously.

That was why the Lone Power had picked this spot. The various threads were going to meet, and soon, and He predicted that it was all going to come to a head soon. That was why he came to the edge of the resort, found a hilltop all to himself, and settled in to watch the show.

He had a perfect view, straight down into the plaza the confrontation would take place in. All he needed was some popcorn and…

_What._

The figure that had entered the plaza was not the resort owner, or the sibling, or the orchard manager. It was clothed in all white, flowing robes edged with bright gold and silver, catching and reflecting the light in dazzling flashes. Fairly gaudy, and out of fashion, but that was not what had captured the Lone Power’s attention.

No, it was the faint tingle of power surrounding the figure that he recognized. He knew it as well as the back of his own hand.

The figure down there was himself.

The Lone Power scoffed. That was the problem with existing outside of time. Dip back and forth into the timestream frequently enough, and you end up running into yourself.

Forget popcorn, the Lone Power needed a _drink._

He scoffed. _Honestly_ . _What did I even think I was going to accomplish in those robes? It was something about the contrast between all the colors and the white, I remember that much… No excuses about the hair, though, that was just a disaster._

The past version of himself vanished into an alley off the plaza.

The Lone Power stood, brushed the clinging blades of bright blue grass from his own much more subtle and tasteful robes, and followed.

~~~~~~~~~~

The terrors that he was most proud of inflicting upon creation were the ones that would make no sense to anyone outside a certain species, or subgroup of species.

A particularly good example is the instinctual, visceral wrongness every Rirhait feels upon seeing an innocuous herbivore from the planet’s northern hemisphere pecking at the stem of a particular fruit. No Rirhait has ever been able to coherently explain it, and members of their species simply innately _understand,_ so the rest of the Universe collectively shrugs and lets them be. After all, they run the Crossings — one can indulge them the quirk of being the first and only species to invent force field generators that can fit inside those little stickers that go on produce.

Conversely, there were more universal torments, things which you would never think would translate across species, but they do.

Apparently, the shame and bewilderment of witnessing your past self’s choices can be felt by a time traveling Power the same way it would a human looking in horror at photo record of a questionable fashion phase.

At a leisurely distance, the Lone Power followed his past self from the alley off the plaza through a winding series of back roads, grumbling internally the entire time.

 _This must have been a while ago, I only vaguely remember this…_ he thought. _There’s the speech, then… Was it going to flare?_

He looked up, directly at the planet’s star. Yes, the activity in its core was increasing. Strange that he hadn’t noticed it earlier. _See, this is why I needed a vacation. Going soft, Starsnuffer._

A flier on a wall caught his attention as he passed: a stark white rectangle amidst all of the popping advertisements trying so hard to get your attention that they all fade into a background of clip art and neon colors. It had his picture on it — his past self’s picture — and was advertising a free event to hear the notable spiritual figure on the poster talk about salvation.

 _Oh, right, this._ It was familiar, a favorite that he returned to again and again because he couldn’t get enough of the dramatic irony. And simple, too.

He turned away from the flier and continued to trail his past self, thinking about what was going to happen.

_Step one: Pretend to be an emissary of good and light, decrying darkness and evil (tailoring the message as appropriate to a species’ culture and physiology)._

_Step two: Increase the activity in the star’s core enough that it will go nova on command. Set off a few flares to draw attention to the star._

_Step three: Pretend outside forces are affecting the star. “Defeat” the outside forces. Return a hero. Everyone listens to heroes._

_Step four: No one need ever be afraid of the dark again, if they just listen and embrace the light. When everything is visible, nothing can hide in the dark. The light is good, embrace the light, surrender to the light. You have no secrets under the gaze of the light; allow it to burn all of the darkness from your hearts._

_(Sometimes, if he wanted a change, he would switch over to a doomsday prophet persona, claiming the star going nova was because of all the darkness in their hearts, and this was the only way they could be “redeemed.”)_

_Step five: Sit back at a safe distance and cackle as the star burns their skin from their bones._

But… Obviously it didn’t work in this case. The Auisrians would still be around to invent neutrino massage someday, and all of the skin was on their bones when they did it.

He remembers being stopped. Being humiliated. Sent on his way with his tail between his legs. Statistically, it was probably by a wizard. The other Powers intervened only rarely. He couldn’t remember details. Probably a brat on Ordeal. They had enough raw power to throw around that they could have fixed the star.

Perhaps it should have been alarming that he couldn’t remember. But then again, when one has lived for eons, one can be forgiven a few lapses of the early days.

For this was obviously one of those early days. The Lone Power had finally caught up, and his past self had already launched into a speech to the assembled crowd from the center of a large, outdoor amphitheater. He tucked himself into an alcove at the edge to watch.

Why was he even here, tuning out his own speech and waiting for himself to be shown up? He knew how this was going to end. The wizard was going to arrive soon, playing the perfect counter to him, praising the existence of the darkness and the balance in the Universe and all that Timeheart nonsense. They looked the part, too, dressed in subtle, dark colors. They were going to stalk down into the amphitheater, and challenge his past self. They would throw words back and forth, then throw more than words, and then the wizard would throw his past self out of this _dimension._

And where was that wizard, anyway? It was getting to the point in the speech where they had shown up. He had chosen to lurk in this alcove specifically because it was in the direction the wizard had come from. Honestly, that idiot should already be sweeping in.

But there was no one in the area wearing the color the wizard had been… The only one nearby that was even _wearing_ a dark shade was…

_You have got to be kidding me._

The Lone Power looked down at his subtle, dark blue robes.

_The next time that Pig preaches to me about what an awesome lifestyle choice linear time is, I’m making bacon._

 

_~~~~~~~~~~_

The Lone Power, the Starsnuffer, the Terror of the Worlds, That Asshole That Invented Entropy, was pleased. Things were going quite smoothly in Its grand plot to bring the terror and destruction of unbridled entropy upon the Auisrians.

It was laughably simple to pretend to be an emissary of light, a brave traveling soul concerned for Auisria and wishing to step in and politely point out the dangers they had witnessed with their valuable outside perspective. Granted, even _pretending_ to be on that side left a heck of a bad taste in this vessel’s mouth, but the payoff would be worth it.

As long as you pretend to have a world’s best interests at heart, and you pretend to be preaching for things that seem no harm at first, you can do just about anything to a species before they even realize anything is wrong.

That’s not to say that there was any species with a 100% gullibility rate, but this particular crowd of Auisrians seemed more easily swayed than usual. It was nice, but not mandatory. It didn’t have to convince them all, or even the majority. This bit, the bit where It comes down to the planet and gets dressed up in these gorgeously ironic robes and puts on the show, none of this is necessary.

It would be far easier to just send their star nova and let physics erase them from history for good.

But there would be no fun in that! There wouldn’t be the _satisfaction_ of watching them all scurry around their disgusting little resorts like insects with their nest disturbed, crying for mercy, sending their wizards on fools’ errands, and begging any world that will listen for safe haven.

It was so cute, that they thought they had a chance. And It would miss all of that if it just primed the star and left! One has to take _some_ amount of satisfaction in their job, after all.

It was going so smoothly, too — there hadn’t been a hint of wizardly intervention yet! It wasn’t born of the One yesterday; It knew that the wizards were probably massing for a grand attempt to stop It.

There was an expression the Lone Power had heard on a backwater planet once: “Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Apparently, that applied to wizards as well, because no sooner had It begun to think about the lack of wizardly intervention, than It noticed the dark clothed figure descending into the amphitheater, heading straight for It.

This would be _fun._

It turned away from the approaching figure and back to the crowd It had been playing with honeyed words and false accusations.

“And lo, who approaches but one of the Fallen? One of those who have given their heart to shadow?” The Lone Power gestured at the wizard. “I met a people, once, who had the quaintest expression: ‘to wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve.’ I never before have met someone who would take it this literally! Who do you expect to impress with this over-the-top mockery of all the values a good being should hold dear?”

The crowd booed and jeered, but the approaching wizard merely inclined their head, acknowledging the words but not reacting to them. They merely continued their approach, until they were standing just in front of the stage, looking up at the Lone Power with a bland expression.

“Brash words,” they said, “considering half of _your_ outfit looks like you rolled first in glue then a jeweler’s leavings.” They spoke at a low volume, but every assembled being heard them clearly. A thought-spell, doubtlessly.

A chuckle rolled through the crowd.

The wizard continued. “Sometimes, subtle understatement will serve one better.”

The gentle breeze that had been blowing all day suddenly died, marked in its absence.

This close, the Lone Power could feel the sheer amount of power radiating from this unknown stranger. Fascinating. _They didn’t send a wizard, one of Them came Themselves…_

This was supposed to be a fairly cut-and-dry affair, just one more species that would end up as a footnote in other species’ history books. But, apparently, something about these pathetic fools was important enough that those damnable bright Powers had sent one of their own to intervene, instead of doing what they usually did and delegating the scut work to a wizard. The question was: who?

It was certainly not the One’s Champion. That one couldn’t do subtle if it bit Them on the ear.

Then again, was anything about this subtle? Sending one of Their own in the guise of darkness to fight his terrible light. _And they accuse_ me _of dramatics!_

Two could play at that. _“_ And do you have any more sage advice, oh _subtle_ newcomer? Any nuggets of wisdom laced with darkness that you are going to corrupt the good, innocent people of this world with?”

Oh, They were certainly having a good laugh about this in Timeheart. Oh, how the tables have turned! Oh, how far the Lone Power has fallen, to be bringing ickle nasty light to the worlds and has to be stopped by some sacred darkness.

The Power nodded. “I believe I do, actually.”

“Well then, by all means.” The Lone Power gestured at the assembled crowd, many of whom were regarding the other Power with open suspicion. “What do you have to say to us? Are you perhaps here with the same words we have heard spoken over and over, decrying the light so that we all may hide in shadow, safe from all the dangers we can see? For unlike you, I have not forgotten the dangers that lurk!”

The Power shook their head, chuckling softly. “No, no, nothing of that sort. I have no reason to decry the light. You see…” They held up a hand, and a small pinpoint of light appeared over their shoulder, casting a beam at the stage.

The Lone Power squinted and ducked to the side.

The shadow of the other Power’s arm appeared on the wall behind the stage. “Wherever there is light, there will be darkness.” They made an animal shape from the shadow of their hand - a local canid. “The laws of physics do not need me to speak on their behalf, they simply are. That is an inevitable facet of the cosmos, and neither of us can change it.” The light source blinked off and on. In between blinks, the puppets changed from canine to avian, and shadowy birds formed by the Powers’ hands began gliding across the back of the stage. “We can’t change it permanently, that is.”

“What do you mean, the laws of physics?” someone in the crowd called.

The Power looked over at them and waved. “A good question, thank you!”

The Lone Power rolled Its eyes.

“See, here are the facts of the matter. Light particles (or light waves, I don’t discriminate based on lifestyle choices) stop when they hit another piece of matter. They cannot strike what is on the opposite side of whatever they hit, so they cannot reflect and be seen. Whatever they hit then casts a shadow.”

The light sources multiplied, and the shadow puppets danced across the audience, who all gasped and recoiled.

“The only ways to get rid of shadow completely would also destroy everything else. Light cannot cast a shadow if there is nothing to block it.”

The shadows vanished.

All of the shadows vanished.

The shade from the trees and the awning above the stage vanished. The shadows cast by the light from communications devices vanished. The shadows of everyone in the audience vanished. Every being squinted in the brilliance.

The Power waved a hand, and the shadows returned. The crowd breathed in relief. The Power gestured at the stage again, at the Lone Power. “So, this one has come to you promising to rid you of all darkness. Ask yourselves: _how do they intend to do that?”_

The collective eyes of the crowd fell on It once more.

For the first time since the mystery Power showed Themself, the Lone Power began to feel apprehensive.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t much work to send his previous self running, tail between Its legs. After all, he knew all of his own tricks, and had had infinitely more time to perfect them all.

When the stage was empty once more, and the star was stabilized, and the amphitheater was empty, the Lone Power finally allowed himself to relax a little.

_That was tedious. Cursed linear time._

Sure, he _could_ have broken the loop and let his younger self wreak entropy. He _should_ have.

Why _didn’t_ he? He wasn’t a slave to linear time, whining about stable loops and fixed events and becoming one’s own grandfather.

There were footsteps behind him. The Lone Power stood to this form’s full height and spun around. “What?”

The person behind him was a wizard, he knew that before he even turned around. The force of his glare wasn’t enough to send them on their way. They opened their mouth to speak the usual defiant greeting, and he sighed internally. _This annoyance again. Some things never change._

But, today, change was in the air. “Fairest and fallen… _What the heck? What the heck just happened here?”_

The Auisrian wizard was looking back and forth between the Lone Power and the stage and the star. “I will be the last one to criticize you for preventing our terrible fiery deaths, but… Why did you prevent yourself from causing our terrible fiery deaths?”

"Don't worry, little wizard." It was satisfying to watch the Auisrian flinch at the coldness he managed to put into his tone. "I'm not going soft on you. I still have plans for your little world. But the timing is wrong."

The wizard stared blankly.

The Lone Power turned to leave, making as if to brush past the wizard, but then leaned in to whisper in their ear.

“In approximately 3580 years, a very clever member of your species employed at one of your planet’s finest resorts is going to invent something called a neutrino massage. Rest assured, your species will _not_ go extinct any time before that. In the meantime, enjoy your star’s temporary stability. It should last about four millenia.”

With that, the Lone Power transited away between one blink and the next, leaving a very confused wizard in his wake.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

Linear time and causality were such that even a celestial Power like him would probably never know if that time loop had always been there, or if it was new to the timestream after that brat rewrote his name in the Bright Book.

Did anything really change? Did anything happen when a single arrow up and out was drawn in shining ink on the pages of a book lit by a dying star? (Certainly, it felt so at the time, the strokes burning him as painfully as if the girl had sliced open his flesh and inscribed the lines on his marrow.)

Or did it simply record something that had been there all along? Something that existed, but he never acknowledged, until it was inescapable?

It doesn’t matter, he eventually decides. It doesn’t matter if he saved Auisria for the massages or because he finally _could c_ hoose to save them.

Perhaps he could know for certain someday. The Pig would know.

The Pig probably wouldn’t tell him.

What would he even gain, from knowing?

 _Nothing that matters right Now,_ he decides. Regardless of rhyme, reason, or modality, he is here Now. The past is there. So is the future. The only place right Now is the present.

And if, after this whole affair, he chooses to shift his present about 3,600 Auisrian years into the future to enjoy a nice neutrino massage, that is His Own Damn Business.

Linear time is just one lifestyle choice of many, after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Forever and always, infinite gratitude to my beta reader [fulldaysdrive](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fulldaysdrive) for your endless encouragement, liveblogs, and typo obliteration. I do not know what I would do without you, my dear.


End file.
